I've never blogged before, though I imagine that, like virginity, mine is an innocence that can only be lost once. I'm ready.

First copies of Lost and Found in Cuba arrived at my door only yesterday, so the "book" that has inhabited my mind and twinkled in the pixels of my computer screen for the past eight years has only been accessible to touch for twenty-four hours. As author, the materialization of thought into symbolic language and the object of a book is precious mystery. Removing the first copy from the carton and feeling the weight of it in my hand dispelled any doubt I had about the magic of books and the satisfaction of writing (or is it the satisfaction of having written?). Now, ironically, the very physicalness of the book provokes me to want to stretch in a new direction: to find written voice beyond ink on paper. An e-voice.

Through your comments and responses as you read book or blog, I hope that you, my readers, will join me in reflecting on the themes that thread through the book and that seem to have found permanent lodging in the living room of my psyche--- Cuba of course, but also human rights, mental health, and the challenge of living joyfully while tethered to finite bodies and a planet that needs all the best we can give.

Whenever I feel a blog coming on, I will post---perhaps every week or two, though I can't know for sure; for a while I'll have to listen for the rhythm. I invite you to join me in this oh-so-21st-century version of writerly conversation.